A/N: And now for something... well, not completely different, but it's been a while since I've used Star Wars. This is a story about Anakin Skywalker in his youth, and it's a little rough. It's been a while. Criticism appreciated. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Wind. Rain. Electricity.
Electricity scorching the heavy air, electricity shooting down his spine and across his fingertips and making fireworks in his soul, electricity darting across the gray mass of singing droplets in an arrogant, extravagant display of sheer power.
Anakin, it whispered to him. We are one.
He felt a triumphant smile spread over his face. Yes, he replied to the wind tearing at his clothing, to the rain pounding him relentlessly with its icy shards. I am the Force. Therefore, I am Life. I am Earth. I am You, oh powerful ones.
Eyes closed, he let his senses shoot outward. He felt all with vivid clarity, with a connection much deeper than conscious thought, a connection deeper than bone and blood. Solid rock beneath, tempestuous sky above, roaring waters and shrieking trees sloping out before. Their aura filled him through the Force, so powerful it threated to overwhelm, but he knew, deep inside, he was worthy of this connection.
I am powerful. I am in control. We are connected. We are one.
"Submit!" He cried to the heavens, drinking in the power, the might, the beauty, the beast that was he. He stretched out his arms, spread his palms, drank and drank and drank and then shaped. He wrapped his will around the burn of the electricity that was his voice, around the gusts of the wind that was his breath, around the droplets of the water that was his blood. His mind saw the cyclone of his power even if his physical eyes did not. We are one. One. And I am in control. I control! I am all!
He was distantly aware of wild laughter and howling gales twisting through the wild mosaic of rawness, and could not discern which he used to be.
An hour? A day? A lifetime?
Some time later, he let his consciousness slowly retreat back to its original vessel, gradually withdrawing from the dying storm. The elements had played themselves out, it was time to return to live among the weaker members of the universe.
He let his arms, numb, fall to his sides, and stood a few moments, feeling the receding wind caress his cheek like a sister's parting kiss.
Weary, yet invigorated, he surveyed the territory he had just commanded. He had proven his power, his might, his worthiness. He would be a powerful Jedi.
And yet... as he walked down from the precipice, he somehow felt... empty.
In the valley, a plain, human mother cradled her baby beside the warmth of a fire.
"Hush, my love," she cooed. "It's only a storm." The child reached out and lovely clutched her mother's outstretched finger.
"I will keep you safe, love," whispered the mother. "You and I, we are one."
And mother and child sat in the flickering light, wanting nothing.